Never too old to live and learn
to untangle the clouds and swallow the sun
to wrangle your dreams and hope they come
to angle worms and catch a fluke
to sing a song without rebuke
to whisper sweet nothings
to the moon and the stars
to dance with abandon
to heal the old scars
to try your hardest not to bungle the job
to pick yourself up
when you’ve fallen so hard.
I breathe the same air as the Joshua tree
the crimson hills and the amethyst sky,
so many knots and gnarls I want to untie,
rivers to cross and hillsides to climb.
If only the moon and the stars
were all mine.
© Connie Song 2024. All Rights Reserved.
